Dear Moose and Squirrel,
Here we are at another Mother’s Day. This one came sputtering
down the road, coughing smoke, with a flat tire, covered in rust. It has been a
bumpy year to say the least. And you may be looking back on this year and
thinking to yourself, as a Mom, I’m going to give her a C-. This certainly
hasn’t been her best year – she really hasn’t wowed us much and she seems a bit
touchy. Oh my loves. It has actually been a pretty spectacular year. You see,
I’ve spent most of this year working harder than ever to just maintain status
quo for you. If I have done my job well, you will think that this year hasn’t
been amazing, but in the background, it has been my swan song. And as much as I
want you to feel like life is normal as we transition from a family of four to
a family of three, this backfires on me when I need just a little gratitude, or
at least for you not to complain to me all the time about how you don’t have a
brand new four wheeler or when you fight with each other over who has to walk
the dog.
As soon as I knew you were speck in my belly, I have been
protecting you. I ate all the right things, I gave up all the bad things. I
rearranged my work schedule for you and used all my vacation to attend your
school events, no school days and to drive you to camps. Do I sometimes point
out the sacrifice I made of giving up coffee for two years for each of you
while I was pregnant and nursed you? Yes. But there are so many things I have
done to protect you that I will never tell you about.
You see, you are still living in your house, in your
neighborhood, in your school district, because I knew that was important to
you. You see nothing different other than your father doesn’t live with us
anymore and you feel bad for him. You don’t see me, scrambling on the other
side to give you that sense of normalcy. You don’t see the tears I’ve cried,
while moments before I reassured you this will be a happy home again, built on
trust, honesty, love and laughter. You don’t see how scared I am because I’m
afraid it will make you worry. You don’t see how I’m double checking my new
budget after you go to bed to make sure I can keep you in swimming, because I
know that swimming is good exercise for you, even though you “hate it,” and it
is “child abuse” except that you love swimming and laugh during practice. You
don’t see how hard it is for me emotionally to give one of you difficult
answers to your hard questions and give the other one of you innocence while
you take your anger and sadness out on me. And in the midst of this, I am still
excitedly sitting down to go over all of the new changes in the new season of
Fort Nite with you and ordering you the new Marshmello helmet you want. Because
Moms know that the show must go on and the ringmaster sets the tone. And by
golly, the tone in this house will be one of healing our hurt and moving
forward into the light.
If I’m doing my job right, you only see that for you, a
large part of your life hasn’t changed. You come home to a house full of food,
toilet paper, and the normal chaos. You come home to homework, rules and lots
of “no” answers, which you hate no matter how good for you it is. You don’t see
the fear, work, struggles and sacrifices I am making for you to not notice a
difference. And maybe one day I will tell you. But for right now, all I’m
asking for this Mother’s Day is a little grace. It’s been a tough year of
protecting you and while you may not notice anything herculean, I have never
worked harder for you to think I’m doing nothing special.
Love forever and always,
Mom
P.S. If I could ask for just one more thing, it would be
really great if you could remove your wet dirty clothes from your sports back
packs when you get home. Unlike a piece of chicken, wet towels and sweaty socks
do not improve when they marinate. Thanks!
P.P.S. One last thing! If you could also please eat more
fruit and vegetables. I think you know why.
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